by Robert Brown
Heinrich did the only thing he could do in that situation—dove behind a table, then scurried past some people making a panicked rush for the door and to the cover of the bar, which fortunately had an opening right next to him. He stumbled over the bartender, who had already hunkered down, and scrambled farther along behind the bar to get around to Niko’s flank.
That was, assuming Niko was still where he had been. The bar was such a torrent of sound—gunshots, screams, breaking glass—that Heinrich had no idea what was going on but didn’t dare poke up his head yet.
When he did, he did it with two full bottles of ouzo in his hands, figuring he’d give Niko Marinos a taste of his own medicine.
At first he couldn’t see the guy. People had hit the deck, clustering under tables or crawling for the front and back doors. One of the old men lay on the ground, gripping his bloodied arm and letting out a sustained wail.
Adonis crouched behind an overturned table. The detective ducked around the side to fire.
A muzzle flare from behind a screeching woman told him where Niko was. He was using the chick as a human shield. His shot missed, and Adonis ducked back around the table, unable to return fire.
Heinrich decided this was no time to be gentlemanly. That woman was going to get it in the next few seconds if he didn’t take action, so he wound up and threw the first bottle of ouzo with all his might.
He got Niko in the side of the head. Unfortunately, the shards sprayed all over the hostage too, cutting her face and shoulder. Heinrich winced. Why was he such a disaster around women?
Well, he had probably saved her life. Niko rolled away, shaking his head, and then turned to aim at this new attacker. The woman had the presence of mind to scramble away.
And Heinrich had enough time to throw the second bottle.
He missed Niko’s head and the bottle bounced off the bastard’s shoulder. The ex-soldier grunted, aimed, and fired as Heinrich ducked back behind the bar.
Which turned out to not be bulletproof. The bullet tore a neat hole through the front of the bar and shattered a bottle of wine next to Heinrich’s head, spattering him with red liquid.
Another shot, but no new bullet hole appeared. Heinrich crawled a few feet along the bar, picked up another couple of bottles, and leaped back up.
The fight was over. Niko Marinos lay on the floor, choking on his own blood from a gaping wound to the throat. Adonis stood on the other side of the room, still aiming the barrel of his Beretta.
A door at the back of the bar burst open. The two uniformed police officers who had been guarding the back exit came through it.
“A little late, boys,” Heinrich grumbled.
What happened next was almost as ugly as the fight in the bar. More police came and sealed off the crime scene. Ambulances wailed through the crowd to take away the injured cop, the old guy who’d been shot, and the woman whom Heinrich had inadvertently cut. Then the police chief came—a scowling old man with the face of a hawk and the voice of a screech owl—and started chewing out Adonis for lousing up the collar. He did this in front of the traumatized patrons.
Then the chief turned his attention on Heinrich. He shouted some rapid-fire Greek at a young and obviously nervous officer who then had to translate.
“The police chief says you are not supposed to be here,” the officer said. “You could have gotten hurt.”
Adonis said something but got cut off. Heinrich decided to finish his sentence for him.
“I helped nail that guy. If I hadn’t hit him with the bottle, he wouldn’t have backed away from the woman and given Adonis the chance to fire.”
The officer reluctantly translated this and got an earful in return.
“My commander says that you were breaking the law to come along. He will not press charges considering the circumstances but you must leave now. The case will be given to a different detective and your help is no longer needed.”
“Tell your commander he’s a stupid piece of shit.”
The officer paled. The police chief paled. Then the police chief gave him a quick but very complete lesson in Greek insults.
“Guess you speak English after all,” Heinrich said to the police chief, flipping him off as he went out the door.
For a moment, Heinrich tensed. The bastard could probably have him arrested for that, and then he’d be screwed. Montaine would never hire him.
The next few steps felt like he was pushing through jelly. Things seemed to slow. He’d lost his cool, and now he’d endangered everything. Why did he always do that?
The police chief started shouting again, and for a moment Heinrich felt sure he was done for, but then he pieced together enough of the conversation to realize the asshole had turned his attention back to Adonis.
That didn’t come close to ending his problems. If the police chief didn’t want him on the case, and Adonis was out, what could he do? Solve it on his own?
Heinrich gritted his teeth. Yeah, he would solve it on his own, just like he had solved so many of his other cases.
But how? He had just lost all his resources.
Not all. When he got back to his hotel, he got on his anonymous email account and sent a message to Biniam.
“I need a trace on those hackers, pronto, my friend. If you need me to translate any Greek, I’m here for you.”
He got an email back within ten minutes.
“Hey, my man. It’s proving a bit more difficult than I anticipated. I’ve traced several security breaches to various addresses in Athens, but when I checked on Google Maps, they all turned out to be Internet cafes. Didn’t know those still existed. It’s like 1995 all over again, lol! I’m trying to find a pattern in the login times and places. So far no luck. I’ll get back to you ASAP.”
“Fuck,” Heinrich grumbled. “Now what?”
He stared at the screen for several minutes, at a loss. A knock on the door jarred him from his reverie.
Thalia. She looked worried.
“I heard from one of Adonis’ men about the fight. Are you all right?”
Heinrich shrugged. “More or less. I think Adonis’ career is wrecked, though.”
“That poor man. I should call him!”
“I think he’s busy getting chewed out by his boss. Oh, and we’re off the case, or at least I am. The police chief wasn’t too happy about there being a gunfight in the middle of a popular bar. At least two people got hurt, maybe more. I’m sure it’s going to be all over the papers tomorrow. It’s not Adonis’ fault. He did everything right. Sent in a plainclothesman to make the collar, but Niko Marinos recognized the guy somehow. A lot of these career criminals get to know who’s who on the street, so you’re always taking a chance no matter whom you send in. Just bad luck.”
“But the police chief didn’t see it that way,” Thalia said.
“No,” Heinrich said, glancing at his computer, hoping to see a message from Biniam. Or Jan. After that gunfight, it would be a relief to hear that kid complaining about math class or about how one of the monitors at his halfway house always farted in the rec room. Funny how that messed-up teenager had become an oasis of sanity in Heinrich’s own messed-up life.
But there was no salvation coming from the Internet right then. He turned back to Thalia, the pretty, intelligent woman who was far more worried about some cop ten years her junior than the man right in front of her. Ah, well. Wasn’t that always the way with him?
“So now what?” Heinrich asked. “Any ideas?”
Thalia thought for a moment. “We could check out Corinth. The illegal excavations were some time ago, and the gang won’t go back there now that we’ve taken their Corinthian ware. They’ll be sure to realize that we’ll discover it’s been illegally dug up. But they probably had some local help. They must have paid for a local guide, or for one of the security guards to look the other way.”
“I’m sure the cops pressured them.”
Thalia gave him a wicked smile. “I’ve seen how you operate. I’m sure yo
u can pressure them more.”
Heinrich grinned. “Well, well, well. The academic has a bit of venom in her veins.”
Her features set and a flinty glare came to her eyes. “These people tried to kill us, and they are already killing our past. We have to do whatever we can to stop them.”
Heinrich nodded slowly. “All right. We’ll keep going. But we don’t have any resources. The cops have cut me out, and they’ll probably give you the brush off too.”
“You forgot about Lambros. After what he went through, I’m sure he’ll be willing to help.”
Thalia was correct. She gave Lambros a call and told him what had happened. Within half an hour they were sitting in his house. The millionaire looking pained and exhausted on his sofa, his crutch by his side and his arm still in a sling.
“I’ve transferred ten thousand euros into your account, Professor Georgiades. You can use that for car rental, hotels, and other expenses. If you need more, just ask. If you don’t need it all, don’t worry about returning the balance. Those people must be stopped. They would have killed me for sure. Here.” Lambros handed over the mug shots Adonis had given him. “Perhaps these will help. I also know antiquities dealers all over the country and I would be happy to help with introductions. Anything else you need, just ask.”
“Do you have a gun?” Heinrich asked.
Lambros paused, studied Heinrich for a moment, then nodded. “Come with me.” With the aid of his crutch, he hauled himself to his feet. Heinrich moved to help him. Leaning on Heinrich, the millionaire led him to a spare room and opened a closet. Inside, leaning against the wall, was a Remington Model 700 BDL, a fine hunting rifle. Or at least that’s what Heinrich had heard. He’d never done any hunting.
“You got a handgun?” he asked.
Lambros shook his head. “Only this. Handgun permits are difficult to get in this country. I used to do some hunting when I was younger. It hasn’t been fired in a while, but it’s in good condition and has plenty of bullets.”
Heinrich took out the rifle and studied it. It was a 30-.06, so it had decent stopping power. The problem was, he wasn’t familiar with longarms. His poor performance with the AK-47 had been proof of that. Plus the damn thing had only a four-round carrying capacity.
“If you kill someone with this, you will put me in a bad position,” Lambros said.
“I understand.”
Lambros looked him in the eye. “Kill if you need to.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next day, Heinrich and Thalia sped down the highway through the rugged Greek hills on their way to Corinth, an hour west of Athens. Towns and villages dotted their route. Between them was open farmland or pasture on which flocks of sheep nibbled the grass. Occasionally, the terrain opened to their left and they saw the brilliant blue waters of the Gulf of Megara. The little white triangles of sailboats hugged the coast, while farther out, large container ships ploughed the waters.
“Beautiful,” Heinrich said. “I’ve always wanted to see Greece.”
“I guess this isn’t how you expected to see it, though,” Thalia said with a chuckle. She was at the wheel because she had a local driver’s license and Heinrich’s arm still ached from the knife wound. He wondered how he would be able to fire that rifle hidden in the trunk.
“I’m just glad to see it at all. I grew up pretty poor and figured I’d never get outside the United States.”
“You’re traveling a lot now, though.”
“Yeah, my talent with languages gets me plenty of overseas gigs.”
“That must be why Montaine is dangling that job offer in front of you. So what’s this about some kid you’re helping in Warsaw?”
“I met him on a case. You know that Nazi gold train that Montaine mentioned?”
“That was all over the news. I read about it. I was thrilled to meet you, knowing you were connected to that.”
“Yeah, I guess that story would appeal to an archaeologist. Well, I had to infiltrate a far right group that was searching for the train and that had killed my client’s husband to get some information he had about it. While I was playing the role of a neo-Nazi, I met this kid, Jan. A skinhead. Barely in his teens and sniffing glue, drinking anything he could get his hands on, and saying how Hitler was the best thing that ever happened to Europe.”
“Sounds like an adorable child.”
“He was a little shit, but his eyes opened real wide when it turned out the far right movement had murdered his favorite uncle. Of course, that just fucked him up even more. At least it got him out of the whole neo-Nazi subculture.”
“Where is he now?”
“In a halfway house in Poland. They specialize in street kids, juvenile delinquents, and kids who have been in gangs. I’ve been visiting him, trying to get him squared away.” Heinrich sighed in frustration, looking out at the stunning countryside but no longer seeing it. “He’s got these ups and downs, though. Sometimes I think he’s doing better. Doesn’t get in fights and his grades start to improve, and then … bam! Everything goes to hell.”
“And his parents?”
“What parents? The two drunks who haven’t visited him in months?”
Thalia bit her lip. “Sounds like you’re all he has.”
Heinrich snorted. “Not anymore. I thought I was helping, but it turned out every time I had to leave Poland to go back to the States, the trouble started. Jan felt like I didn’t give a shit, like I was abandoning him like every other adult in his life had done. Now the halfway house staff doesn’t want me to visit anymore.”
Thalia didn’t respond for a while. Out of the corner of his eye Heinrich saw her looking at him, but he didn’t turn to face her. She shifted gears to overtake a truck and then put her hand on his.
“You’re a good man. When I first met you I thought you were just an overgrown child, but you have a good heart. Don’t worry. You and I will solve this case and get Montaine to hire you. Then you can live in Warsaw like he promised. Now I see why you want to live there. You deserve it, and it sounds like that boy deserves it too.”
Before Heinrich could think of a reply, his phone rang.
He saw it was Biniam calling on AnonChat, a secure encrypted calling service that had a slow connection because the signal was scattered through various servers, like communications on the Dark Web. The slow speed didn’t matter because the hacker never turned on his camera. In fact, he had physically removed it from every device he owned.
“Hey, bro! How’s it hanging?” Biniam asked happily.
“Good enough. Got my ass kicked a couple days ago playing the hero.”
“You’re always getting your ass kicked. You need a new career, my man. You lose as many fights as you win.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Where are you driving?”
“How do you know I’m driving someplace?”
“I turned on your phone’s camera.”
Thalia gave him a startled look.
“It’s the hacker I told you about,” Heinrich explained. “Don’t worry, he’s a friend.”
“Lift up the phone; I’ve never seen Greece,” Biniam said.
Heinrich lifted the phone and panned it around slowly. Biniam whistled.
“Looks like something out of a tourist brochure. The chick’s not bad, either. A real MILF. Is that the hot archaeologist you told me about?”
“I’m on speaker phone, Biniam,” Heinrich said, feeling himself redden.
“Whoops, sorry. Anyway, you asked for results and I have delivered, as usual. I found more hacks in the Ministry of Antiquities database. They’re all from Internet cafes, unfortunately. These guys are careful. But they aren’t doing it just from Athens. A couple of months ago they logged in several times from Corinth.”
“That was when the illegal excavations took place,” Thalia said.
“Right you are, my lady. And sorry for saying you’re hot. I mean, you are hot, but—”
“Get to the point, Biniam,” Heinric
h grumbled.
“Sorry, no harm done. They probably don’t even know what MILF means in Greece.”
“Biniam!”
“Oh, anyway. I just found a new login. Occurred only half an hour ago. This one is from a town called Sparti.”
“Sparti!” Thalia cried. “Of course they would dig there.”
“Is that an important site?” Heinrich asked.
“It’s ancient Sparta. And Mistra is just up the hill, a major Byzantine site.”
“Is it far?”
“Down the Peloponnese. Another hour and a half beyond Corinth. We can be there by lunchtime.”
“Brilliant. Let’s skip Corinth. It was a long shot anyway.”
Biniam cut in. “I’ll email you the address for the Internet cafe. I couldn’t find it on the map. It’s all Greek to me, ha-ha.”
“Ha fucking ha,” Heinrich said, shaking his head.
“I’ll keep an eye out for more logins. Oh, and sorry for calling your girlfriend a MILF.”
“She can still hear you, dumbass.”
“Oh. Sorry for calling you a MILF! I meant it in a nice way!”
“Goodbye, Biniam.” Heinrich hung up.
“Nice friend you got there,” Thalia said, taking her eyes off the road to give him a withering look.
Hm, I just lost any brownie points I earned from Jan’s story. Things were going well there for a minute.
“Sorry about that. He’s a computer hacker. Delayed development.”
“You’d know,” Thalia grumbled, frowning as she passed another truck.
“Sorry if I triggered you, but there are no safe spaces with me.” If Heinrich wasn’t going to bag this woman, he figured he might as well be his usual self.
Thalia rolled her eyes. “God, safe spaces.”
Heinrich cocked his head. “What? I thought you’d be all for them, being a university professor and all.”
“Hell no. A university is supposed to be a place of free and open discussion, like the theater in ancient Greece. If you can’t deal with opposing opinions, you shouldn’t go to university.”
“Wow. With that opinion, I bet you aren’t popular.”
“I try to keep it to myself, not that I’m always successful.”
